


And A Cup Of Good Cheer

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family Feels, Gen, The Thursdays Adopt Endeavour Morse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: When Fred realized, the words came rather back to haunt him."Remind me to never spend Christmas at your house."Endeavour Christmas story.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Sam Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	And A Cup Of Good Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!!!

When Fred realized, the words came rather back to haunt him.

_Remind me to never spend Christmas at your house._

Morse had been shot, his father had died, he was certain to be sent away until he’d healed up properly…

And he had no one to spend Christmas with.

Until the paperwork was over and done with, they’d at least allowed him to return to Cowley station, which was the only reason he even realized.

“So, Morse” he asked a few days before the holidays, “When are you going up to see your sister?”

He raised his head and winced a little, the wound still being sore – God, he really needed to eat some more, he was growing thinner every day – “I – Gwen and Joyce have had enough to do, with organizing the funeral and everything, and I’m not that fit for travel right now… it’ll have to wait.”

 _Have to wait? But it’s Christmas,_ he wanted to protest like a small boy who’d been denied a treat.

He couldn’t when he looked into Morse’s haunted eyes.

* * *

Fred should probably have expected something like this when he told Win that evening.

She looked downright scandalized. “That stepmother of his isn’t having him over for Christmas? But his Dad just died!”

“Don’t think he’s feeling up for the holidays anyway” he said, trying to make it sound better; but the thought of Morse, all alone during a time one was supposed to keep with loved ones, sent a shiver down his spine as well.

“That’s even more of a reason to look after him!” She thought for a moment before her face lit up. “I’ve got it!”

And, as she launched into an explanation of her plans, he was once more reminded that his wife could be decidedly sneaky when she put her mind to it.

* * *

It was the very next day at breakfast that she told the children.

Joan and Sam just laughed. “Morse won’t know what hit him, Mum” her oldest said, her eyes sparkling, and he was reminded of his suspicions again… maybe… he was a good lad, after all, and who knew what might happen…

“That’s kind of the point, dear. I know the type – if we just invite him, he’ll find a way to weasel himself out of it, and disappear to wherever they send him next. That’s not good for him; he needs to know someone cares.”

And if there was someone up for that job, it was their Win, as Fred well knew.

* * *

What could at best be described as a friendly coercion and at worst a downright attack on Morse’s right to decide what to do with his holidays began immediately afterwards. Due to his injury, Fred had started picking the lad up, instead of the other way around; and today, he was accompanied by Win and her faithful basket.

Morse opened the door and Fred saw Win frown ever so slightly as she took him in. And it was a small wonder – still pale, and his face marred by pain.

He immediately stood up straight when he spied her, however. “Mrs. Thursday – sir – I didn’t –“

“Hello, Morse” she said brightly, as she used to do when the kiddies were ill and she didn’t want them to know that she was worried, all but pushing past him, “I just wanted to make sure you had a few essentials – it can’t be easy, since you were shot and everything…”

“I – Mrs. Thursday!” he shot him a panicked look, then moved to follow her but was hindered by his wound.

“She won’t be gainsaid, lad, not when it comes to this” he said firmly. “Now, put on your coat; Win can pull the door shut on her way out.”

“But sir…” Any objections he might have raised were quickly overturned by Win hurrying back to hand him a sandwich. “There, dear, luncheon meat – it’s not the day for it, but we need you to put something on these bones – I’ll be able to see right through you if this goes on!”

“I –“ he looked down at the sandwich, then swallowed. “Thank you, Mrs. Thursday.”

“It’s no trouble at all, dear – now then; off you two go. Stay safe. I’ll see you for dinner.”

As she kissed Fred, Morse couldn’t have known that she meant both of them.

* * *

Alright. Win surveyed the small flat. Oh dear, that were way too many empty bottles… First things first, though.

She stocked up the fridge with the things from her basket and then put on the few Christmas decorations she’d brought. There; already the place looked merrier.

And now… oh yes.

As she placed the card on the living room table, she smiled to herself.

* * *

Morse didn’t have much of an appetite at lunchtime, but forced himself to; DI Thursday looked rather pleased and he hoped that he’d tell his wife he’d done her kindness justice.

She reminded him of Mum so much it hurt, sometimes, and the thought was another reason he struggled to swallow it all.

He only hoped she’d not brought too many groceries over; he didn’t know how to cook, and he certainly didn’t want her food to spoil. Maybe he could donate it, give it to someone who actually needed it…

The day passed quietly and yet he felt rather weary by the end of it, the bullet wound making it difficult to move and sometimes even to breathe; not even Jakes annoyed him, making him think he must look even worse than he felt.

Being lost in thought on his way back home, DI Thursday driving once more, he never realized what was happening until Mrs. Thursday stood next to the car, beaming. “Come in, Morse!”

“I –“

“Now, you need a good, solid dinner…” And she ushered him into the Thursday family home, her husband following with an indulgent smile on his lips.

He blushed scarlet when he found Miss Thursday waiting for him. She looked him up and down. “Good God, Morse, I swear you’re becoming more of a twig every day.”

“Joan –“ Mrs. Thursday began.

“I know, Mum, I know. Now, Morse, sit down, I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”

There was nothing he could do but nurse it until dinner was done, making awkward small talk with Sam Thursday that thankfully grew significantly less awkward when it turned out he had Arthur Conan Doyle’s works as a boy.

Or not so thankfully.

He would later think that if it hadn’t been rather impolite to do so, he would have thought the Thursday were a rather cunning family.

They were well through dinner before Miss Thursday interrupted their discussion of The Blue Carbuncle with, “And what are you doing for Christmas, Morse? Having your own goose club so you can find some priceless jewellery?”

“I’m going to spend a few quiet days at hoem” he chose to answer, hoping that Mrs. Thursday would be satisfied with hearing he was going to rest up.

Of course she wasn’t. “Oh? With your sister?”

He wished he was able to lie to her. “No” he finally was forced to admit. “My place…”

To his utter surprise, however, Mrs. Thursday simply nodded and said, “I see.”

His relief was not to last.

DI Thursday was driving him home – despite his protests – and as he moved to put on his coat, Mrs. Thursday quickly stepped up to help him – also despite his protests.

“So, what do you say, Morse? Five o’ clock?” she asked conversationally.

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“For your coming over on Christmas Eve.”

Wait. What? She certainly hadn’t asked, and he wouldn’t have agreed. “I – It’s really not –“

“Five o’ clock, then; perfect; I’ll plan dinner for six.”

“Mrs. Thursday –“

“It’s Win. You should of course bring a few things to change.”

Now she had lost him even more than before. “I –“

“You can have the guest room for the night.”

* * *

Yes, there was nothing Win couldn’t do if she put her mind to it; and Fred happily ignored the panicked glances and silent cries for help Morse was sending his way. The children were doing their part by acting like this had been the plan all along, telling Morse they’d see him then, Joan going so far as to kiss his cheek, and Sam clasping his shoulder.

By the time they made it to the car, Morse was beet-red. Quite frankly, it was nice to see some colour back on those cheeks.

“I – “ he began to stammer once they were alone. “Sir, I really am grateful but –“

It was then that Fred delivered the finishing blow. “Win’s so happy you decided to come over, you can’t imagine. She was worried sick about you staying on your won for the holidays.”

It was underhanded and rather manipulative, but it made him lose any courage he might have had to protest against their plans.

* * *

By the time he made it up the stairs and into his flat, Morse’s mind was whirling. He certainly couldn’t remember being asked to come over to the Thursdays’ for Christmas, or agreeing to do so; and yet they all seemed to consider it a certain thing…

He stared when he saw the garland slung across his living room, and the small poinsettia on the table – both things he was certain had not been there before this morning; and there was a small card next to the plant –

_Dear Morse, I am so glad you’ll spend Christmas with us! Try and keep up your strength until then, I brought enough food to tidy you over.  
Win Thursday  
P.S. Don’t even think about bringing anything!_

His eyes lingered on her name, wondering when he’d last gotten a card from… anyone.

He looked at the plant, then back at her handwriting.

Seemed like he’d never had a choice.

* * *

He’d tried to broach the subject with DI Thursday once or twice, but his governor was acting just like his wife in simply assuming Morse was going to come, and that was that; and so, in the end, he didn’t have it in him to stay away. DI Thursday had brought him home an hour before so he could gather the few things he’d need.

He’d still brought a bottle of wine, assuming that Mrs. Thursday would forgive him the slight transgression; and she did as soon as she opened the door, even if she admonished him gently. “That really wasn’t necessary, dear. Now why don’t you join Joan and Sam in the living room?”

He was beyond relieved when he found them engaged in the paper’s crosswords puzzle and occasionally offered a clue.

“Really?” Miss Thursday exclaimed when he solved another one, “Dickens invented White Christmas? I thought that was just always a thing!”

“I assume people liked a snowy Christmas, Miss – Joan” he corrected herself when he saw her glare, much to Sam’s delight, “But it was indeed Charles Dickens’ Christmas writings who popularized the notion –“

“Ah, Morse, teaching those two something they missed out on in school?” DI Thursday, who’d been helping his wife in the kitchen, asked. “Come on, we need to set the table – oh, not you, Morse. You just sit down.”

And he had to acquiesce ti being waited on yet again.

Dinner, as he’d had no doubt it would be, was excellent, and he couldn’t deny that it filled him with more than just food. When he thought that otherwise, he would now have been sitting around in his cold empty flat and instead was basking of the smiles and laughter of the Thursdays, he couldn’t help but be thankful.

* * *

“See? I told you he just needed to get used to being cared for” Win repeated something she’d been telling him the last few days.

He was helping her clean up.

“Aye, pet”. He listened to the sounds of the children (never realizing until later that he’d already classed Morse among them) coming from the living room. “I haven’t hear him laughing in weeks.”

“That’s what family does for you.” She carefully poured out the hot cocoa that was a family tradition of theirs. “Now he just has to put on a little weight and he’ll be back to full health in no time.”

* * *

On his way to the Thursdays’ house, there had been some half-plan forming in his mind as to how he might be excused and return to his flat after all; but when the clock struck ten, he never having realized that time was passing since Joan and Sam had brought out the board games, he resigned himself to his fate. He felt too full to move anyway, Win having supplied them all with a steady stream of sweets and whatnots from the kitchen.

“Good night Morse” she told him as they stood in front of the guest room, “And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded since this seemed to be the best option.

She hugged him. “Sleep well.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded again.

* * *

It was gone nine by the time he woke up; at least all the Thursdays had decided to sleep in as well, so he only found Win just putting the kettle on. “Ah, Morse. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas – Win” he replied carefully.

She beamed. “Now, sit down.”

“I could –“

He saw her face and sat down.

Eventually the others came downstairs as well, all happy and cheerful, looking forward to their Christmas presents; Morse himself was more than glad to watch them enjoy themselves –

Only that a package was pressed into a hand the second they all sat under the tree.

“That really wasn’t –“

“Trust me, Morse” Joan interrupted him,” Resistance is futile.”

It was a hand-knitted scarf and he felt a few tears fill his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you so much, Win.”

“It’s nothing, Morse; noticed you didn’t have one and didn’t want you to get cold.”

“It’s not nothing for me” he said honestly.

Win surprised him by leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “There you go, Morse” she said, her voice sounding a bit strange.

He smiled at them all and tried to remember when he had last felt at home.

* * *

And pretence that he wasn’t going to stay for the rest of the holidays fell to the side after that. Jon and Sam were eager to include him in their traditions and family games, and DI Thursday and Win seemed to have no problems with it whatsoever.

He should have protested.

He didn’t. It felt too much like being part of a family again, and he didn’t want to give up the feeling sooner than he had to, he decided when, on the night of the Bank holiday, snow fell and Joan insisted they got outside and build a snowman, Win carefully wrapping his new scarf around his throat since “You need to take better care of yourself, dear.”

* * *

As it turned out, he didn’t have to give it up at all, for, when he finally left on the 27th, Win changed the course of his plans yet again.

“Now, remember – no matter where they send you, you can always come up on the weekends, hear? Promise, Morse?”

“I – “ he hesitated for a moment, then thought of family dinners and laughter instead of empty fridges and silence and said, “I’d love to.”

She hugged him again, DI Thursday clasping his shoulders as Joan and Sam grinned at them.

“Oy, Morse, you’ll always have a place among us.”

Somehow, it was almost enough to make him believe in Christmas miracles.


End file.
